Thursday, November 3, 2011

Hope

She reminded us once that God's plans are always bigger and brighter than we could ever imagine. And that hope is the gift He gives when we look up from our brokenness. So that's what we named her. Hope.

She's the big sister. Always the teacher. The one who is more like a super hero to them. They bask in the light of her attention and she guides their way into fairy tales and bits of trouble. She is a born leader, and though it's clear she would prefer a dictatorship, even she has learned the art of being a leader people want to follow.

Her natural talent is astounding, her drive...eerie for a 7 year old ("almost 8!", she says). She attacks a hobby and masters it. Soccer, piano, gymnastics. She finds it hard to settle for less than the best and I admire her work ethic. But it also makes failure a hard pill to swallow. And I know we'll spend a good bit of her life assuring her, in ways that are subtle and in words that aren't, that her value lies in who God made her to be, who she already is. And praying...praying hard that she believes us, believes Him.

Cause who he made her to be is incredible. A little girl who knows what she wants and goes for it, but who also has eyes to see those who are ignored or overlooked and a heart to do something about it. She has her daddy's sense of humor and my love of the dramatic. And some crazy wicked dance moves to boot.

She was my first little girl, the one who taught me what it meant to be a mom, the one who continues to teach me what little girls need. Only she's not so little anymore. And apparently 8 is the new 10, and even my lack of clocks in the house won't make time go any slower. So instead I walk alongside her after school as she fills me in on her life apart from me, happy to be the hand she still holds on the way home.